


I Think I'm Breaking Down

by Lizzyboo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt Phil, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzyboo/pseuds/Lizzyboo
Summary: “Hello?” he answered, surprised to find his voice calm under the circumstances.“Phil,” Martyn’s voice was tired and tight, and Phil wanted more than anything to hang up on him and crawl back under the covers for a few more hours. Days if possible.“Yeah.”He didn’t ask the question, they both knew what the phone call meant.It didn’t make it easier to accept though.





	I Think I'm Breaking Down

**Author's Note:**

> in this fic Phil's parents still live in Rawtenstall and didn't move (in case it bugs someone lol)

He got the news on a Saturday morning, when he was still in bed with Dan. 

Dan was pressed against him, not quite cuddling but sometime during the night Dan slid a little down the bed and now his forehead was pressed to Phil’s forearm and his knee was digging into Phil’s side. 

Phil woke up from his ringtone, an inappropriately cheery tune he decided on months ago. Now a days he never went to sleep with his phone muted, just in case something would happen. 

He knew immediately it wasn’t good news when he saw his brother’s caller ID on the screen. 

His brother knew very well that Phil never woke up before 10am, especially not on the weekends. 

Martyn was spending the weekend with Cornelia at their parent’s house. Him and Phil both took turns spending their weekends there for the last month, trying to help however they can. So naturally, he felt his sleep clouded brain fill with grief and defeat even before answering the phone. 

“Hello?” he answered, surprised to find his voice calm under the circumstances. 

“Phil,” Martyn’s voice was tired and tight, and Phil wanted more than anything to hang up on him and crawl back under the covers for a few more hours. Days if possible. 

“Yeah.” 

He didn’t ask the question, they both knew what the phone call meant. 

They both saw the way their father’s state deteriorated in the last few months. Both saw how he went from going to work to resting at home to lying in a hospital bed. Both saw how his chubby, red cheeks, that almost always held a smile on them, became hollow and pale. Both had the conversation with their mum and the doctor and each other. 

It didn’t make it easier to accept though. 

“I’ll come as soon as I can,” Phil added after the silence had stretched for too long. 

“See you when you get here,” Martyn said before hanging up. 

Phil put his Phone back on the night stand, feeling his movements slow and sluggish. He sunk down on his pillow, turning to his side and finding Dan facing him, awake, with wide open eyes filled with sympathy. 

Phil didn’t have to say anything. They both were expecting this type of phone call for weeks now.

“Come here,” Dan said, reaching out his arms and pulling Phil to his chest, holding him as close as he could. 

“I’m so sorry Phil,” he said, and he sounded choked up and Phil couldn’t handle someone else’s grief at the moment. Couldn’t bear someone else’s tears. 

“I’m going to take a shower, and then we should book the earliest train.”

He untangled himself from Dan, avoiding his eyes and went to the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind him. 

 

**************************

 

When Phil first heard about his dad’s sickness from his parents, he tried not to think too much about it.

The doctors caught it early, his dad said. 

The prognosis is good, he said. 

Don’t worry about it too much, he added, when he saw that Phil and Martyn’s faces still looked a little confused, a little unsure how to react. 

His mum tried to smile at them reassuringly, holding both their hands in hers, but it was clear she was shaken by all of this. Clear by the way her smile wavered and her eyes were just a little too puffy. 

Phil hasn’t seen his mum cry for years, and the thought of her doing so now made him really uneasy. 

But he knew his dad was strong, he was always strong, and he would make it, he had no doubt about it. 

And even though Phil wasn’t a child anymore, and he stopped idolizing his parents years ago, there was no question in his mind about how resilient his father was. 

And when he left their house that day with Martyn, saying goodbye to each of his parents, he hugged both of them tightly. 

“Do you need any help with anything?” he asked his dad when he let him go, his hand still resting a little awkwardly on his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it son, I have a great doctor, and I’m starting treatment, and if it was up to me we would have never bothered you and your brother with this, but you know,” he made a little head gesture towards his wife, who was quietly talking with Martyn a few steps from them. 

“Dad, please promise to call if you need anything. Whatever it is. You know money is not a problem,” Phil said, even though he already knew what his father’s reaction was going to be to that. 

“I’m not going to take my child’s savings. Don’t worry about it Phil, we’ll be fine,” he said, leaving no room for arguments, right as Phil’s mum joined the conversation, standing close to her husband and wishing her sons a safe trip back home once more. 

When he got home that evening Dan was in the kitchen making both of them dinner. 

He tried to talk to Martyn about everything on their train ride to London but sometimes Martyn could be even more closed off than Phil and other than a few nods he couldn’t get a lot out of him. 

“Hey, I had the craving for pasta, hope that’s okay,” Dan said as soon as Phil walked into the room, smiling big and bright at him in a way that clearly stated ‘I missed you you dork.’ 

“yeah, that’s fine,” he answered, walking straight up to Dan and kissing his lips softly, then burying his face in his neck, breathing deeply to calm himself down, clinging to his side.

“You’re going to make me burn the sauce you weirdo, let me finish at least before you start sniffing me.” 

Phil made a whiny noise, just to humor Dan, but let him go after one last squeeze and went to sit down by the table. 

Dan took a few more minutes to finish his cooking, and Phil sat quietly, watching him move his hips a little while adding more salt, or listening to him hum some unknown to Phil tune. 

By the time Dan put the food on the table Phil felt clingy and sad and he just wanted to go sit on the couch and watch some mindless TV show while being curled up with Dan’s arms around him. 

But they made the decision not too long ago to try and eat their dinners at the table because that was ‘the adult way to do it,’ so Phil settled for reaching for Dan’s hand before he had the chance to sit in front of him and bringing it to his lips, leaving a kiss against his knuckles. 

Dan chuckled but leaned down to leave a sweet kiss on Phil’s forehead before sitting down and looking at him with amusement. 

“Someone is clingy today,” he said while putting food on his plate. 

“Just missed you,” Phil answered, and something about his tone made Dan look up from his plate and examine Phil’s face. 

“I missed you too,” he said, no teasing. Phil guessed that his expression probably looked a little too serious for that. 

“You look a little off, are you feeling okay? Do you have a headache?” Dan asked, looking a little concern. 

Now that Dan had mentioned it, Phil did have a slight headache. But it wasn’t a migraine, not yet at least, and was probably caused by the stress of the day. Nothing a good night sleep couldn’t fix. 

“I’m fine, just tired,” he smiled at Dan reassuringly.

“Okay, we could go to bed early if you want,” Dan said, still sounding a little suspicious. Phil just nodded at him. Going to bed early was exactly what he needed. And if Dan was willing to go to bed early with him… well that was just another bonus. 

“How’s the parents?” Dan asked after a few minutes of silent eating. 

Phil could feel the tension in his head building, but tried to ignore it. 

“Dad’s sick,” he said. 

“Oh that’s too bad. Is it the flu? I told your mum last time they should get the shots.” 

Phil felt his stomach turning. He really wanted to go to bed, have this day be over. 

“No, Dan. He’s like sick sick. Like, cancer sick.” He said, a little reluctantly. 

It sounded so much worse when it was said out loud than he was willing to admit it was at this point. He couldn’t brush off the seriousness of the situation when he was looking at Dan’s face of realization. Seeing his eyes widen and his hands flying to his mouth. 

“Oh god-“ he started, only to be cut off by Phil. 

“Don’t. Please, just… don’t be dramatic about it right now. I can’t handle this reaction right now.” Phil said, and he could feel his headache starting to get stronger by the second. 

He knew he was being a little mean. Dan was a dramatic person by nature, and his initial instinct was usually to over react to situations, especially when he was worried. But Phil knew Dan would not hold it against him. Not with this. 

“What did your parents say?” Dan asked in the calmest voice he could muster. 

“They said… that the doctors caught it early. That we shouldn’t worry too much about it. He’s going to start treatment next week.” 

“That sounds… reassuring.” Dan said carefully, looking at Phil intently. 

“Yes, it does.” 

“Did you, like, did you offer our help? You know, with everything?”

Phil let out a small laugh, which immediately caused a wave of pain in his head. 

“I did, but you know dad, he doesn’t want to take anything from me.” Phil said. 

“Then I’ll just have to talk with your mum,” Dan said determinedly. 

Phil smiled at him again, and he could feel a little bit of pressure leave his throbbing head. 

It was a miracle how well Dan could read him some times. How he just knew that Phil felt uncomfortable not being able to do anything for his dad. How much he hated feeling useless to the ones he loved. 

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out across the table and taking Dan’s hand in his, feeling him squeeze around his fingers tight. 

“He’ll be fine.” Dan said reassuringly, locking his eyes with Phil and trying to soothe him with the simple touch of his hand. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

 

*******************************

 

‘Daniel Howell: I’m heartbroken to inform you that Phil’s father passed away this morning. Please send all your love and comfort to @amazingphil and the Lester family, and most importantly please respect this time of grief and give them the space and time they need to heal. #RIPNigelLester-‘

“Is that okay?” Dan asked, showing Phil the tweet, making sure Phil approved before posting it. 

They were sitting in a cab on their way to the train station. Phil was staring out the window before Dan spoke to him, his eyes covered with sunglasses, but Dan could see the pained expression he had on his face none the less.

They got out of the house in record time. Dan took it upon himself to get their suitcase ready, book train tickets and make Phil’s morning coffee for him all before Phil got out of the shower. 

Dan felt lost, because for the first time he wasn’t sure how to make his boyfriend feel better. 

And it wasn’t the first time he saw Phil sad, but it was the first time that he felt like there was nothing he could do to make it better, to make the pain go away for him. 

The situation was behind his control and that scared him.

So he settled for trying to do all the day to day tasks for Phil, trying to at least make things easier for him, make sure there’s nothing he needed to worry about except his own emotions. 

And even though Dan could feel his own heart aching from the loss, his own body twisting on the inside, he knew it must be a million times worst for Phil. 

Phil’s lips were in a tight line while reading the tweet, and for a second Dan thought that maybe he wrote something wrong. 

“Yeah, that’s okay.” He said eventually, not lifting his eyes to meet Dan’s. 

He did, however, move closer and laid his head on Dan’s shoulder, his hair tickling Dan’s cheek. 

“Thank you for thinking about it. I didn’t even think to tweet.” He said quietly. 

Dan put his arm around Phil’s waist and pulled him more comfortably against him, relieved by his reaction. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, dropping a kiss to the top of Phil’s head. 

They were usually less affectionate when out in public, even in the privacy of a cab. 

By this point it was less about them hiding and more the force of a habit. They were privet people and they liked to keep it like that. 

But the driver wasn’t paying them any attention and with the day Phil was having Dan was more than willing to provide any kind of comfort his boyfriend needed, whenever and anywhere he asked for it. 

 

***************************************

 

There were two girls looking in their direction in the train station. They were whispering and pointing and obviously recognized Phil and him and Dan was praying to whoever was willing to listen that they won’t approach them. 

And they didn’t. 

Whether it was Dan’s tweet or the way Phil was leaning on the wall next to him, arms wrapped around himself and the corners of his mouth pulled down in the most pitiful way, they didn’t come near them. 

But by the time the train approached the station and Dan took their suitcase and whispered a soft ‘come on,” to Phil, he was so relieved he could feel his body physically deflate. 

Dan really didn’t want fans to come up to them right now, didn’t think Phil was able to deal with that at the moment, and there was a lot less chance that someone would come to talk to them on the train. 

They sat down, and even though Dan would whine about it usually he gestured for Phil to take the window sit. 

He knew it was silly, knew those little gestures didn’t actually do anything to help Phil and lessen his pain. But he was unable to do anything else, useless in the face of Phil’s loss and he just wanted to do something, anything to make it at least a little bit better. 

Phil slumped on his sit, immediately turning his face to the window. 

“Here, I bought you a sandwich.” Dan said, looking through his bag and taking out a chicken sandwich he bought Phil when he went to get himself something to eat. 

 

They didn’t have time to eat breakfast before leaving, so Dan went to the little train station store to buy himself something quick to eat, while Phil waited on the platform, shaking his head no when Dan asked if he wanted something too. 

“Not hungry,” Phil answered, not even giving the sandwich a second look. 

The train started moving and Dan could feel the curious gaze of the woman set opposite them, watching their interaction with the corner of her eye. Dan pointedly ignored the uncomfortable feeling her presence caused him. 

“Phil…you have to eat something,” Dan tried. 

“Really Dan. Not hungry,” Phil sounded tired and short and so unlike Phil and Dan really didn’t know how to approach this version of his boyfriend. 

“If you’ll eat it there’s going to be a certain someone’s favorite chocolate bar at the end for you,” he tried to say teasingly, not missing the way his voice sounded pleading. 

They had a long day ahead of them and Dan felt responsible of keeping Phil fed and hydrated. They really didn’t need anything else on their plate at the moment. 

To Dan’s relief Phil’s lips twitched a little in a soft smile. 

“You should have started with that,” he said softly, taking the sandwich out of Dan’s hands. 

Dan knew Phil was just trying to make Dan feel better, humoring him so that Dan wouldn’t feel so tense. 

Phil always hated making anyone worried, especially Dan, who worried way too easily. He hated feeling like he was burdening anyone with his feelings. Which was, quite frankly, ridiculous after so many years of companionship in Dan’s eyes. But as it was working in his favor at the moment, he wasn’t going to say anything. 

 

And even though Phil only ate half of his sandwich and ended up not wanting the chocolate bar Dan had bought him at all, it was still something. 

 

********************************************

 

They got a message from Martyn saying they should come to the house instead of the hospital when they were nearing Manchester. 

Dan was thankful, as selfish as that sounded. Phil looked exhausted after more than 2 hours of train ride and Dan knew if they were to go to the hospital Phil would insist on doing all the paper work himself. 

And even though his thought proses was unfair to Martyn and Ms. Lester, Dan could only really focus on one Lester at a time. 

They took a cab to Phil’s parent’s house right after getting off the train.

Phil took off his sunglasses by then and his eyes were red and puffy even though Dan couldn’t really put a finger on when Phil actually cried. 

Dan held his hand the entire ride. Running his thumb up and down Phil’s knuckles, drawing circles on the back of his hand and squeezing tightly when he felt Phil’s hand tremble a little. 

Dan took out his phone, going through the ‘RIPNigelLester’ tag on twitter. There were a lot of lovely messages of support, a lot of messages directed at Phil and his family, and a lot of messages directed at Dan, telling him to take care of Phil. 

 

“Look,” Dan said, catching Phil’s attention and showing him the screen. Phil always loved reading through their audience’s messages, loved to feel like he had this huge mass of people standing behind him. 

But to his surprise, Phil gave a quick glance towards Dan’s phone before averting his gaze to the other direction, letting go of Dan’s hand. 

“Don’t show that to me,” he said harshly and Dan couldn’t mask the confusion from his face, feeling like a huge lump settled in his throat. 

“Sorry,” Dan answered quietly. 

He heard Phil take a shaky breath to calm himself down and then his hand was back in Dan’s, squeezing reassuringly. 

Dan clung to his hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it a few times. 

“Sorry,” he said again, even though he couldn’t understand what he was apologizing for.

 

*************************************

 

They were standing in front of Phil’s childhood house hand in hand, bracing themselves. 

Even though Phil spent every other weekend in this house for the last month, he still couldn’t ignore the obvious changes. 

The driveway was a mess, covered in leafs and dirt, the flower garden that was always the envy of the entire neighborhood was dry and neglected and the paint on the walls of the house started to peel. 

Phil felt the knot in his guts became tighter. 

For the lack of better word the house looked… dead. 

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Dan’s hand pulling his gently. 

“Let’s go inside.” Dan said, starting to walk, puling Phil and their suitcase behind him. 

 

********************

 

When Phil was young he wasn’t too close with his father. And it wasn’t that they were cold or distant, no, it’s just that Martyn and their dad always were really close, had similar interests and opinions. 

And Phil, well, Phil was always a mama’s boy. 

He could say it with pride now. Not a lot of people had the close relationship he had with his mum. Not a lot of people felt like they could talk to their mum about anything, feeling like she would always have their back. 

And even though his relationship with his dad was pretty good, he could still remember feeling tension between them some of the time. Especially when he was younger and less sure about himself and the path he chose to walk on. 

Because Martyn was everything their father ever wanted in a child. He was confident and smart and good at sports and practical. Their dad always laughed fondly at all of Martyn’s shenanigans, ruffling his hair with a smile, telling over dinner the silly tales of the things Martyn did that day. 

But Phil…was different. He was quitter and shyer. Always hiding behind his mother’s skirt, crying when he was the center of attention. 

“Go play with the other boys son,” his father always said when Phil was a kid and they were out on the playground, because his dad was a good dad and always made sure to spend time with his kids whenever he could. 

“I’m having fun over here,” he always answered. 

And he did. Have fun, that is. 

His father never understood that being surrounded by all those other kids and playing physical games made Phil’s insides twist and turn. Because they were pushing and teasing and touching and running and none of those things were appealing to him. 

But he did like to sit with his dad and watch his brother play with his “big” friends, letting his imagination go off in different directions. 

And when they would walk home and his brother would run ahead of them, full of energy and youth and covered in dirt (like a boy should be after a day of playing, according to his father), Phil would walk next to his dad, hold his hand and rumble about his fantasy world. 

He would tell him about his pet flying lion and the ice breathing monster and the super special magical stone he found that could tell the future and his dad would nod and listen but he would never fondly laugh, like he did with Martyn. He wouldn’t ruffle his hair or ask more questions about the stone or the lion. 

He would, on occasion, ask, “But why didn’t you go play with the other kids? You could have met some friends.” 

And he always said it softly, reassuringly, never harshly or demandingly, because he wanted what’s best for Phil. Phil knew that. 

And that’s why he always answered, “next time I will.” 

 

And it’s not like he didn’t have friends, he always had, even if not lot. But they were the kind of friends Phil spent time talking about video games and comic books with, not the “let’s go outside and play soccer,” kind of friends that his dad wanted him to have. 

“Let him do his thing Nigel. He has his head in the clouds, like me.” His mum would say to his dad from time to time, when they were spending time together as a family and she would overhear her husband encourage Phil to do something he wanted with a little too much persistence. 

And she would smile sweetly at Phil and kiss his head and tell him how special he is the way he is and how much he reminds her of herself. 

And Phil would be happy because his mum was the best person in the world and being like her was the highest compliment for him. 

But still. He couldn’t understand, at the time, why his father wanted him so much to be different. 

And one time when they were out in the park and Phil was sitting next to his father on the green grass and showing him the coin that he found, telling him how the coin used to belong to pirates two hundred years ago, and that an evil witch cursed the coin because the pirate captain broke her heart, his dad snapped. 

Granted, Phil knew his dad was in a bad mood. Things were tense at his job and he and Phil’s mum had a fight just before he took Phil and Martyn to the park and Phil did notice the impatient way in which his dad was nodding along with his story. 

But it still came as a surprise when his dad’s piercing blue eyes suddenly looked like storm, staring at him pointedly.

“Why can’t you go play with the other boys Phil?” he asked, and his voice wasn’t gentle and encouraging like usual, it was demanding and exasperated. 

“I’m- I’m having fun over here,” Phil said, even though he could feel that his answer wasn’t enough this time. 

“Fun? How is this fun? That-“ his father gestured vaguely towards Martyn and his friends, “is fun!” 

Phil physically flinched from the rise of his dad’s voice. 

“Why can’t you go play like all the other boys? Why can’t you act normal?” 

“I am acting normal,” Phil said quietly, because he was. How could doing the things he liked be considered not normal? 

His dad shook his head. “It’s not normal for a boy to not run and play. To sit alone instead of being with the other kids.” His tone was short and impatient and Phil wanted to cry because he didn’t understand anything. Why was he being yelled at when he didn’t do anything wrong? Didn’t break his parent’s rules? Didn’t get in trouble? 

“But I don’t like it,” he tried again. 

“You would if you tried it! But you refuse to do anything other than sit here and imagine your silly worlds.” He used air quotes when saying the word “worlds” and Phil never heard anyone in his family refer to his worlds with so much contempt. 

It was a term his mother used a lot. 

“He is in one of his own worlds,” she would say to his grandmother when he would lose concentration while having a conversation with her. 

“Are you in one of your worlds love? Come back to earth for a little,” she would say to him over dinner, always with a smile. 

But the way his dad said it… made him feel almost ashamed of them. And he couldn’t figure out why. But all the warning bells were ringing in his head and he hated disappointing his parents and even more he hated being yelled at. 

“I’m sorry daddy, I’ll go play if you want,” he said quietly, standing up and hugging himself, starting to feel the tears well up in his eyes. 

He could see the shift in his dad’s facial expression. Could see the guilt settling in, overpowering the frustration. 

“I just want you to do what the other boys are doing sweetheart,” his dad said desperately, apologetically. Because he was a good dad, he was. He just couldn’t understand why his son insisted on being different. 

“Look at your brother. He’s having so much fun,” he added. 

“I just want you to have fun like him, do you understand?” he said, tugging on Phil’s arm to get him closer. 

Phil felt the tears starting to spill down his cheek. 

“I know he’s having fun but I don’t like it. I’m sorry I’ll try again but I’m just having fun here with you.” 

His statement felt inaccurate because at the moment he definitely wasn’t having fun. He was full on crying, and he just hated the way his dad always brought up Martyn and other boys. Why should it matter to his dad what other boys did? Phil was Phil. 

“Philly I’m sorry, come here,” Phil felt himself being pulled to the ground and to his father’s lap, being held closely to his chest and soft belly. 

“I didn’t want to upset you. If you’re having a good time that’s what’s important. I won’t force you to do anything but I just don’t want you to miss out okay? I’m sorry I yelled, daddy had a bad day and he took it out on you, I’m sorry.” He was petting his hair and kissing his temple and doing anything he could to make Phil feel better. But Phil couldn’t erase the uneasiness he was feeling. 

 

Because even though it was the first time he got yelled at for it, it wasn’t the first time his father mentioned the way Phil was different to the other boys. And by this point, Phil was old enough to understand the concept of disappointment. 

 

***********************************

 

They spent the day going through the motion. Making phone calls to inform all their loved ones and making funeral arrangements. 

Phil’s mum had a constant stream of tears down her cheeks and Martyn’s face looked so pained that Phil had trouble looking at him directly.

He knew he probably didn’t look much better himself. Probably looked exhausted and so so sad and like he was going to break down at any given moment, judging by the way Dan was looking at him with constant concern. 

Dan and Cornelia both did as much as they could to help, but Phil could tell how uncomfortable they were feeling inside this privet family grief. How they didn’t really know what to do and how to react and what their place was. 

And Phil hated himself for thinking about that all the time, hated that he couldn’t just accept Dan’s support and presence without feeling like he was burdening him with his family matters. Like he was supposed to smile, just a little, to make Dan feel a little more at ease. 

“You can take a break if you want. Go rest, you went to bed really late last night,” Phil said to him after Dan hung up on another one of Phil’s great aunties, looking emotionally drained. 

Dan looked at him questionably. 

“We both went to bed late last night, I want to help.”

“I know you do, but don’t force yourself,” Phil said, and even to his ears he sounded a little dismissive. 

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything. I want to help you, the family. And you know I cared about your dad a lot too.” Dan said, and Phil could hear that he was a little offended by Phil’s words, even though he tried to mask it. 

And he was really glad that his family wasn’t in the room. There was nothing he hated more than arguing with Dan in front of other people. 

“I know you did Dan, but he wasn’t your dad, he wasn’t your family, you don’t have to do all those things. I know they’re not exactly fun.” The second he said it he knew he didn’t phrase himself right. 

Dan’s eyes flushed hurt and anger and Phil kind of wanted him to storm off instead of confront Phil because guilt was already settling in his stomach and he didn’t know if he could have a fight right now without saying more things he’ll regret later. 

“So suddenly he wasn’t my family? Do you think you are my family only when I’m going on vacations with you or coming to birthdays or doing the fun things? Is that what you think of me? That I don’t want to be a part of your family when things are suddenly not so great?” his voice was trembling and Phil wanted to punch himself in the face. 

He quickly made his way to Dan and engulfed him in a tight hug, feeling him breathing quick breaths in the attempt to pull himself together. 

“I’m sorry. It came out wrong and really not how I meant it. You are a part of this family, have been for years and I know how much you care about my parents and I know you’re not here just for the fun parts.” 

Dan was hugging him back just as tight and rubbing his back reassuringly, as if saying it was okay, he was forgiven. It made Phil feel a little bit sick, but he pushed through it. 

“I just hate to think that you’re doing all those things you don’t really want to do because you feel like you have to, like, like it’s your obligation as my boyfriend. I’m sorry, you know how I get sometimes,” he continued, because he felt like what he said just wasn’t enough. 

“Shh I know, I’m sorry for overreacting. it’s okay.” Dan was kissing the side of his head and squeezing him tightly and Phil didn’t feel better at all. 

 

*****************************

 

When Phil entered his teenage years things between him and his dad became the tensest they’ve ever been. 

And it wasn’t unusual. A lot of Phil’s friends were having fights with their parents and feeling misunderstood in their own homes. 

And Phil barely ever fought with his dad, or his mum for that matter. He was generally a good kid, did what was asked of him and didn’t get into too much trouble.

And still, the tension was there. 

Because Phil didn’t really change over the years the way his father had hoped. He didn’t stop inventing silly stories or started playing sports. 

He started straightening his too long of a hair (like a girl’s hair, his dad used to say) and spending a lot of his time on his computer instead of going out and having fun with other kids (like a young boy should). 

He didn’t like to go to parties over the weekend and still liked to sit and talk with his mum about everything he was thinking and feeling while she would make dinner or do the laundry. 

And Phil could tell it was bothering his dad, a lot. And he had no doubt about how much his dad loved him, he knew he just wanted his child to be the way he should be. 

Because that was how he was raised by his father and how he raised Martyn to be and he just couldn’t figure out what went wrong with his youngest. 

And at this point Phil was starting to get tired of thinking about rules and guide lines to being a “proper” boy. 

Because dying his hair is not manly. And wearing tight jeans is not manly. And liking the color purple is not manly. And listening to his weird, whiny music is not manly. 

And at this age Phil was old enough to understand social constructs and gender expectations and it wasn’t like his dad was the only one throwing comments his way. 

And the way his mum always shot her husband warning glares when he made a comment about Phil’s clothes or hair or lack of a girlfriend made Phil feel even worse. 

Like there was something wrong that needed polite avoiding. Like he had this giant sign on his face describing some kind of a problem, and everyone were staring but afraid of making comments, as to not to offend the freak. 

And he hated the way his father was ecstatic when Phil had his first girlfriend at the age of 15 (that lasted the whole of two weeks), because a lot of his friends never had girlfriends by this point and why was it so important that Phil will have one? 

And his dad would give him extra money to buy her chocolate and take her to the movies and when they broke up his father patted his shoulder and said that it’s okay, that there are many more girls out there for him. 

And then he grew older and went to university and suddenly he could feel so much lighter, like so much of the tension he was carrying in his body started dissolving.  
Because his dad wasn’t there to make comments about his clothes or to make a face when he decided to dye his hair black. And even though there were other people making those comments instead of him, Phil didn’t care about their opinion as much. 

And when he met this one boy with curly blonde hair and a big shining smile in his English course he didn’t feel bad for looking at him. He didn’t feel like it “wasn’t manly” to want to hold his hand and kiss his cheek and do all those things his dad wanted him to do with a girl. 

And it wasn’t like he didn’t know he was bisexual before. He knew that for years. But for the first time he didn’t feel the need to repress his crush and ignore it, because it was easier than trying to explain to his parents another aspect in which he was different to the other boys. 

And he wasn’t an idiot. He knew why his dad was so happy whenever he went on a date with a girl. Knew why he was asking about every one of his female friends and pointing out cute girls at the shopping center to him. 

But suddenly all that meant very little because his dad was far away and the blond boy was inviting Phil to hang out in his dorms and Phil couldn’t find a single thing wrong with that. 

And when on one of his birthdays his dad bought him a hammer drill for a present instead of the camera equipment he asked for Phil was able to laugh about it and give his dad an eye roll instead of feeling the need to take the hint to heart. 

“Dad I think it’s time you understand that I’m never going to be able to fix things, only break them.”

And everyone laughed, including his dad, and even though it wasn’t all okay it wasn’t all bad either. 

Because he knew his dad loved him. He loved him enough to not give up on him and keep gently pushing for the things he thought were right, even if he was wrong for doing that. 

And when after graduating uni he told his parents he was going to try and make the YouTube thing work instead of going to look for a “proper” job, his parents were concerned but also supportive and it was so much more than a lot of other people ever get. 

 

And then… and then Dan entered the picture.

And no one could deny how unbelievably happy Phil was all of a sudden, how much wider he smiled and how much more confident he was feeling. 

And when his mum asked him quietly one night if he loved Dan, without questioning their relationship or Phil’s sexuality or his past girlfriends, Phil couldn’t bring himself to lie. 

Because there was nothing shameful in his love for Dan and he wouldn’t insult his own feelings by down playing them in front of the person who always supported him. 

And Phil never really needed to tell his father because it was so obvious to everyone in the Lester house from the way he would blush when Martyn gently teased him or the way he and Dan looked at each other and laughed and shared a room whenever Dan came to visit. 

There were still little things that were hard for his dad to accept, still glances and comments but Phil knew, despite that, that he was trying really hard. 

“You made me question things I never had to before you came along,” his dad told him one time when they had a rare late night conversations on one of Phil’s visits. 

By this point Phil had moved to London long ago and his relationship and career were solid and his dad couldn’t mask his inability to understand his son’s path with concern. 

“It was always so clear to me that there was a certain way a man should be like. That was how I was raised, that was how I raised you and Martyn. But you were always different, always doing your own thing, and I didn’t know how fix it.” 

It was late and they were drinking tea and even though Phil felt a pang in his chest from his father’s words, he knew this conversation was long overdue. 

“It didn’t need fixing.” Phil said gently, sipping from his cup and looking at his lap. 

His dad was looking at his him with his bright blue eyes and a little regret. 

“I know that now. But I couldn’t understand how you could be happy, acting the way you did. I couldn’t understand it and I thought it was a cry for help, one that a less involved father would have missed. I wanted to help you fit in and I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to, that people wouldn’t get you, because even I couldn’t.” 

Phil had trouble listening and staying calm. He wanted to yell a little at his dad. Wanted to yell for his child self who never had the courage to stand up and speak his mind because he really didn’t want to make anyone upset. Really didn’t want to be a disappointment. 

But he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t because it really wasn’t his style. He was a strong believer in actions speak louder than words and his happiness and success in life proved his father wrong more than anything he could ever say. 

He felt his dad’s hand settling on his knee, squeezing and encouraging him to lift up his head. 

“I should have said this to you years ago, but I’m sorry if I made you feel that how you are isn’t the way you’re supposed to be. You are my son and I’m so proud of you, and I would have been no matter what.” 

Phil felt his eyes well up with tears but he didn’t bother to turn away, because there was nothing unmanly about crying. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, giving his dad’s hand a squeeze. 

 

**********************************************

 

Phil spent a restless night in his childhood room the day his father died. Dan stayed awake with him, even though Phil insisted he should try to get some sleep. 

Dan traced his face with his fingers and hummed small little tunes to try and make him relax and fall asleep but Phil’s head was buzzing with grief and thoughts and even though his body was begging for some rest, his eyes refused to stay closed. 

“How are you supposed to live without your dad?” he asked suddenly, meeting Dan’s brown eyes, pleading for answers. 

There was something easier about talking when the room was dark and other people were asleep and his heart was hurting enough for his mind to let his guards down. 

“Like, it’s my dad. I don’t have a dad anymore. I’m a son with no dad.” He knew he was rumbling, but he didn’t know how else to describe it.

Dan shook his head, moving one of his hands to Phil’s hair and pushing it back, letting his blunt fingernails scratch Phil’s scalp. 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. 

“Like, if I need some advice on something that broke in the house, who would I call? We're both useless with those things.” 

Dan laughed a little, the sound watery, and shook his head again. 

“And… and if I’ll want to tell him about a project I’m doing? Something big, maybe one of the things that I always wanted to do but never had the courage, I wouldn’t be able to, he would never know I achieved that.” 

He could feel his eyes becoming scratchy and the words stuck in his throat. Dan looked lost and sad and his eyes were shining but he said nothing. 

“And if I’ll have kids one day, if we’ll have kids, he would never know them. He wouldn’t be able to go to the park with them like he did with me and he wouldn’t be able to buy them Christmas present and spoil them and he wouldn’t even know he’s a grandpa.” 

He was crying, and Dan was crying too and he scooted closer to Phil and took his face in his hands, trying to dry the never ending stream of tears with is thumbs. 

“And they won’t ever know him. I would tell them about him and show them pictures but they won’t know him, they won’t associate him with warmth and hugs and summers spent up north. They wouldn’t love him.” 

“Phil-“ Dan started but his voice broke and he didn’t look like he was able to actually say anything. 

“And I’m so mad at myself Dan. So mad for not being here yesterday and holding his hand for the last time and seeing him take his last breath. What were we doing last night? You remember? We were watching TV and eating pizza and while we did that my father was spending his last few hours without me.” 

He knew he was blunt and cruel with his words, he knew he wasn’t fair to himself and to Dan but everything hurt so much and his guts were about to explode from the pain and the only way he could get some relief was by speaking out loud his darkest thoughts. 

“Phil, you know it could have happened the other way around. You could have been there instead of Martyn, it’s just how it is. You did everything-“ Dan stopped talking when Phil shook his head violently from side to side, still held in Dan’s hands. 

“No, I didn’t do enough. There were so many things I should have done, so many things I should have said to him before…before he…” died.

“ -And I planned on saying them but I always got scared because they felt so final and I didn’t want it to be the last time. I wanted to tell him that I forgive him for everything I ever held against him, that even though he wasn’t always right he was a really really good dad, and I always felt love from him, always loved him too, even when not everything was good between us. 

He will never know that. He died thinking he wasn’t a good father to me, that I’m still mad about things that were forgiven long ago.” 

Dan’s face was so pained and teary and Phil felt a weird satisfaction out of making him cry, because Phil’s pain was too big to express by only one man’s tears. 

“He did know that, I know he did. You were such a good son Phil. You called him all the time, even before all that, and you came to visit as much as you could and when you saw a movie you thought he would like you always bought it for him and you did everything to show how much you care. How could he ever doubt your love?” 

Dan’s words made Phil’s chest even tighter, made his arms and legs and guts ache from loss. There was so much on his mind and he didn’t know how to say everything, how to explain all the things he was feeling. 

“I feel like such a horrible person Dan. I’m so jealous. I’m jealous of everyone. I’m jealous of Martyn for having a few more years with him that I’ll never get, I’m jealous of him for being closer to dad, for understanding him better.

I jealous of you for having both your parents. I’m feeling bitter because you have a dad that you barely call or talk to or appreciate but somehow the universe took mine away. I’m sorry, I know it’s horrible and petty but I can’t help it.” 

His vision was blurry from tears but he felt himself being pulled into Dan’s arms, being engulfed by a warm body pressing to him as hard as possible. 

 

“You’re not horrible, you’re anything but. You’re kind and you’re loving and you just lost someone very important to you and everything you feel is valid.” 

 

He let himself cry in Dan’s arms. He let himself cling and sob and soak Dan’s T shirt with his tears. 

And he knew his words must have hurt Dan a little. His relationship with his parents was complicated and Phil just talked about it so dismissively. 

But he was hurting. And he knew Dan wouldn’t hold a grudge. He would forgive and forget because that’s what you do when the one you love is breaking down. 

They were lying like this for at least 15 minutes before he could feel himself starting to calm down a little, could start hearing Dan’s soft voice shushing him and humming in his ear over the sound of his crying. 

“I obviously don’t know what you’re going through, and he wasn’t my dad, but I feel a lot of the things you said as well to an extent. I hate that he won’t know our kids, or see our future house. I hate that he wouldn’t be able to see how good I’m taking care of you, wouldn’t see his son hundred percent settled and living the life he always wished for him. I hate that I wouldn’t be able to ask for your hand when I’ll want to propose, or see his smile of approval if you’ll beat me to it. I really want our family to be whole and I hate that there is a part missing.” 

Phil was listening carefully. His tears were stopping and starting every few words but his eyes were beginning to feel heavy and his mind cloudy from all the crying. But he needed to say one more thing before letting himself succumb to exhaustion.

“He loved you.” He said to Dan, squeezing his body closer to him.

“He told me that more than once, he thought you are funny and smart and he loved that you made me happy. I’m so sad Dan, so unbelievably sad, but I’m happy he could get to know you before he died, so happy he approved of you. I’m happy he knew I found the love of my life, that he didn’t have to worry about me not fitting in anymore like he used to. That he knew I found my place with you.” 

He could feel Dan leaving lingering kisses on his head, could hear his whispers of “I love you so much,” and “it’ll be okay.” 

He could feel his own lips moving, sluggish, like out of a dream, kissing Dan’s neck where his head was buried, saying “I love you too,” and “I know.”

 

And his head was throbbing and his throat hurt because he never cried so much in his life and more than anything he wanted to fall asleep and wake up and realize that it was all a dream, even though he knew that wouldn’t happen. 

He knew that when he’ll wake up the pain will still be there and the feeling of loss won’t subside. And he’ll cry again and again because he loved his dad and he deserved to be cried over. 

And Dan will be there and hold him close and kiss his head and cheeks and it won’t make it go away but maybe it will make it bearable.

**Author's Note:**

> this was... the most personal thing i have ever written.  
> i had a really hard time writing this and being objective about what i write because it meant so much to me.  
> my dad passed away a few years back. we were really close and it definitely was a very hard time in my life, one that i'm not completely over yet.  
> my experiences were personal and different than Phil's in this fic, but i did use a lot of my own emotions to describe his i guess...
> 
> anyway thanks so much for reading! please leave a comment and tell me what you think! (especially since this fic means so much to me, i would love to hear if you liked it as well or not)
> 
> and come say hello on tumblr! (@phantasticlizzy)


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